


Curtain Call

by crayolaparadise



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Curtain Fic, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Kyoko takes the lead, Of course its awkward its RenKyo, Phone Calls & Telephones, Ren is trying, first names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23838709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayolaparadise/pseuds/crayolaparadise
Summary: Ren just wants to shop for curtains, but gets a lot more than he asked for!"A light pink flush crossed his cheeks; his Adam’s apple bobbed with a tight swallow. Kyoko stepped forward, ignoring everything inside her screaming to slow down in favor of the beautiful color of light pink on his cheeks."A curtain fic that never makes it to the upholstery section. Takes place after Act 281.
Relationships: Mogami Kyoko/Tsuruga Ren
Comments: 13
Kudos: 64





	Curtain Call

Kyoko’s phone buzzed loudly on the table, drawing her attention away from Sawara-san for the briefest moment. A faint blush crept across her cheeks at the rudeness of the interruption. She scooped the phone off the table and into her pocket. 

Sawara continued with a smile. “As I was saying, Kyoko-chan, Director Seiji requested that you specifically be involved.” 

“I don’t understand, Manager Sawara, I’m just a talento--” Kyoko cut herself off as her phone buzzed again, insisting upon her attention by tickling her. “I’m not,” she paused, trying to silence her phone without drawing it out. 

“Kyoko-chan, perhaps the call is important? It’s alright to take time.” 

“It’s not!”

“You haven’t checked to see who it is.”

“I am taking up your busy time already,” she said, bowing over the table, “and it can wait!” 

Sawara sighed, but he knew his charge too well to press the point. He shoved a thick script across the table to her, the words  _ Destiny Book  _ in boldface on the front. “He wants you for the Goddess of Spring, Kiyumi. Take a night to look over it and let me know what you think in the morning.” 

She stood, clutching the packet to her chest, her leg vibrating with yet another call. 

“Thank you sir! I will sir!” she said, voice laced with enthusiasm. Sawara smiled, shooing her away. Kyoko tenderly placed the script in her purse, carefully arranging her wallet and notepad around it to not allow anything to crease a page. Then, and only then, did she allow herself to pull out the phone and end the waspy buzzing.

“Mogami-san,” Tsuruga Ren said on the other line in breathless excitement. “Finally.” 

“Sempai!” Kyoko clutched the phone to her ear with one hand, rushing around a corner to hide from nothing in particular and everyone in general. “Are you…?” She trailed off, afraid to verbalize any shocking guesses as to why on earth Tsuruga-san would have called her on repeat more insistently than Shotaro ever did.  _ An earthquake? He’s lost a limb! What if he’s losing another character--  _ “Sempai, is it Katsuki again?”

“Katsuki? What-- Mogami-san, we wrapped  _ Dark Moon _ months ago.”

Kyoko bit her lip. “Yes. No, not him, the problem of him. Finding him.” 

Silence. 

A slow exhale. 

“Not exactly. But I do need your help. Will you help me if it’s not for acting?” 

“Yes!” She answered, too fast. She shrank back against the wall for a moment, then started to walk rapidly down the hallway in a desperate effort to work out her nerves. The last time she’d seen him, he’d asked for the right to be called her boyfriend. He’d also chastised her for letting her imagination running away with her and not -- most embarrasing of all -- give up on chasing him. 

Fight for him. She almost tripped over her feet as she walked. He was talking, saying something over the line but her brain wasn’t capable of processing his voice and these memories and the act of walking without falling and also breathing, one had to go. He wanted her to fight for him. She couldn’t even walk in a straight line. 

Fighting for him was not something she could even imagine doing. 

But maybe she could at least stop running.

“...so can I pick you up?” His voice finally registered in her ears, the slight upward rise in his tone for a question triggering her shift in attention. 

“Eh?!” 

“Is it not a good time?” 

“Now?”

“I am outside; it would be convenient.” 

Kyoko stopped moving, everything frozen except for her thumb as it traced over the logo on the back of her phone repeatedly. 

“If not, I understand. I will try and do it on my own. I am sorry for the presumption.”

“No!” Kyoko bit the word off. “No, no it’s alright. I’ll be right there. Five minutes?” 

She could almost hear his smile. It was the dangerously beautiful one. “Five minutes,” he said softly. “Thank you, Mogami-san.” 

“Kyoko-chan,” she said, covering her mouth to hide the yelp of surprise that sprang from her at her words. Tsuruga-san was silent for a heartbeat. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears and smashed the phone tighter to her ear, trying to catch a hint he was still breathing. Still on the line. Maybe she got lucky and he hung up before she said it. 

“Kyoko-chan,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “Thank you.” 

Kyoko whimpered, nodding, and hung up. She could feel herself shaking and forced herself to focus on the act of sliding her phone carefully in next to the script instead of the cadence of his voice, the way his accent tripped over the consonants of her name, making it sound like laughter. 

“What have I done…” she whispered, sinking against the wall. Suddenly she sprang up, her eyes wide. “Five minutes!” She turned and blasted through the door into the ladies’ room. 

Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, Kyoko stood outside the elevator doors on the third floor of LME looking at herself in the shiny metal reflection, a much bulkier bag slung over her shoulder. She had brought the make up set from Moko-san with her to the meeting today, in case of emergency. In her mind, emergency had meant needing a lucky charm. In fate’s mind, emergency apparently meant Tsuruga-san saying her name. She’d put on the light pink lipgloss and a tiny dusting of blush like it was armor, her face serious, eyes focused, demanding the utmost obedience from her lips to not say such ridiculous things as requesting he not use honorifics and her cheeks not betray any flutterings of the heart with unseemly blushes. 

The cheeks were already failing her just looking at an elevator. Memories surged; she tucked her pinky inside her fist awkwardly and took the stairs. 

Tsuruga-san leaned against his white Porsche in the broad boulevard in front of LME, not caring it was broad daylight. Sunshine and smiling people and coworkers and eyes-eyes-eyes-everywhere. Kyoko retreated back into the stairwell and rummaged through her bulky bag, pulling out the wide-brimmed hat and oversized dark glasses she’d borrowed from the props room. She stood tall, letting her hips fall into the cocky slant of Natsu. No one would recognize her. She nodded to herself and strode out into the crowded lobby. 

A few passersby cast curious glances at her, but the LME building had undergone the shock therapy of Takarada Lory appearances for so many years now that a woman in shades indoors merited no more than a sideways glance or a slight hiccup in conversational flow to try and decide if you knew her. 

Tsuruga-san knew her immediately. She could tell by the way he straightened up off his car, the impassive calm on his face melting away into a genuine smile. She was deeply grateful for the way the hat dipped around her face, shading the furious blush rising to her cheeks at his regard. She paused in front of him, her fingers tapping uncertainly on her leg. 

Tsuruga-san’s next actions seemed to be in slow motion -- or perhaps only her reactions to them. He reached across the space between them and pulled off her hat, raising his other hand to gently brush her hair into place beneath. He tossed the hat through the open rear window of his car, then turned back to remove her sunglasses. She felt them slip off her ears, felt the smooth plastic tickle her temples, watched his features snap into bright sunlit focus between her desperate blinks. 

“Kyoko-chan,” he said. 

It wasn’t fair. 

A man shouldn’t have the power to stop the spinning of the earth with the sound of his voice. Kyoko bit her lip, afraid to look too closely at him but also afraid to look away. 

“Tsuruga-san,” she said. He looked at her, one brow gracefully arching. Kyoko shook her head. That brow arched higher. She shook her head vehemently. He crossed his arms and a mewl escaped her. 

“Kyoko-chan,” he said, scolding her with just her name. 

Kyoko fidgeted, then threw herself around him to fling open his car door and dive inside to hide. He stood still for a moment before uncrossing his arms and making his way around the car. Each step hammered in her heart. The door swung open and alarm bells blared in Kyoko’s mind that instead of finding safety she’d thrown herself into the beast’s very lair. She braced herself for impact, face screwed up and eyes squeezed shut. 

She heard the driver’s seat belt slick across and snap into its slot. A jingle of keys; the roar of the engine. Kyoko risked peeking through one eyelid. The car was moving; Tsuruga-san was driving with a smile on his face. She opened her one eye a little wider to confirm smile genus. Shockingly, it was not the Gentlemanly Smile of Doom. 

“Tsuruga-san,” she risked the squeak. He raised both brows, not turning to look at her as he drove down the road. 

“Yes, Kyoko-chan?” 

She gulped, her name on his lips searing like a brand. 

“Um,” she started, then realized he had most definitely told her where they were going when she wasn’t listening and admitting she hadn’t listening would be heaping hot coals on top of her refusal to call him-- to call him anything but Tsuruga-san. She scrambled for something else to say. “Did you eat breakfast?” 

Tsuruga-san stiffened. He licked his lips. 

Kyoko opened both eyes, leaning forward. “You didn’t,” she said. “Tsuruga-san! You know that’s not healthy!” Now it was his turn to avert his eyes. He leaned way farther toward the window than necessary to check safety for his merge. 

“I did.”

“Coffee is not breakfast.” 

Tsuruga-san drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. She sat back triumphant, having gained not only the point about breakfast but a relief from calling him-- from-- yes. She was winning. 

So why did chills creep down her back as a smile slowly spread across his face?

“You’re right,” he said, his hands loosening on the steering wheel. She nodded, albeit slowly, watching him suspiciously. “Coffee isn’t breakfast.” He turned into a parking garage. “I’m clearly hopeless, Kyoko-chan.” She nodded again, but it was a brief, hesitant movement. She wasn’t sure she liked where this way going. “I need guidance. Videos may not be enough this time.”

Kyoko’s eyes started to widen, but before she could get a word in edgewise he was parked, and twisting in his seat toward her. The car was suddenly far, far too small for someone of his size. 

“I need supervision, don’t I?”

Kyoko chirped. “I don’t--”

“You are so thoughtful,” Tsuruga-san said, his gentlemanly smile filling the car with terrifying brightness. “I could only ever trust you with the job. Tomorrow?” 

She shook her head. 

“You’re right, as always,” he sighed. She sighed too, leaning back against the side door in relief. “Tomorrow would be only one meal.” Her eyes shot wide again at his words. He was digging in his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys. “I was going to ask after your help today, but this is clearly an urgent matter.” A single bronze key pulled off the ring lay in his hand. He cupped her palm and slid the key into it. 

“For you,” he said, his voice rough. “To make sure I eat.” 

Kyoko gulped. “Tsuruga-san--” she started. “I couldn’t--”

“I insist. I require the attention.” He folded her fingers around the key. “What if I get sick again? Or skip breakfast daily and Yashiro-san is not around?” 

Kyoko closed her eyes, willfully suspending her arguments. She didn’t nod, didn’t agree, couldn’t make any sounds. Merely slid the key-filled fist into her purse, opening it over the small inner pocket. Tsuruga-san let out his breath. The air around her was suddenly vacant as he pulled back and stepped outside the car. She jumped at the tap on her window; he was already around and waiting. She sat up, allowing him to open the door. 

He bent down, his hand reaching in to gently grasp hers and pull her up to stand before him. He was close, so close, and she knew her cheeks were hot pink behind her blush. He said nothing, just wrapped his fingers through hers and pulled her forward a step to close the door behind her. When his hand dropped hers her fingers stretched impulsively, reaching out for him. She shook it out, reminding it that there were boundaries, there was a proper way to do this, there was a key in her tiny pocket burning a hole in it made of nuclear powered brightness and impossibility and everything was a dream so do not we repeat at all costs do not touch his skin!

She reached out and twined her pinky around his as he walked away from her. 

He stopped. So did her heart. 

He looked down at their fingers, twisted loosely one around the other. 

A light pink flush crossed his cheeks; his Adam’s apple bobbed with a tight swallow. Kyoko stepped forward, ignoring everything inside her screaming to slow down in favor of the beautiful color of light pink on his cheeks. 

“Ren,” she whispered. The pink deepened as his eyes flickered to hers. “Where are we going?” 

He swallowed again. 

“Curtain shopping,” he said quietly. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
